


Ripples and Waves

by DryFics



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: F/M, Feelings, Gen, Grace is dead, Peaky Blinders - Freeform, Time Travel, Tommy has issues, WW2, after season 4, english is not my first language, not canon in any way, only kinda historically correct, they are going to kill hitler, this would not leave my head
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:41:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27917659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DryFics/pseuds/DryFics
Summary: Anna Strauss is a prodigy at the Academy, a small organization that specializes in fixing time problems, and her mission is getting Tommy Shelby and his Peaky Blinders to help her kill Hitler before WW2 begins.They probably will fall in loveBut ending WW2 is the only wave she is allowed to make in the river of time.
Relationships: Tommy Shelby/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 29
Kudos: 56





	1. Dead Man Walking

**Author's Note:**

> this would not leave my brain, so I wrote it down.... Lets hope it keeps annoying me enough to force me to write it.  
> Grammar mistakes are DEFINITELY going to be a thing. if anyone is open to beta-read it and help me out, I would appreciate it lol.

Walking into Tommy Shelby´s silent mansion unannounced and uninvited is one of those unthinkable things that only didn’t result in her ultimate demise because of the pitiful state in which she found the manor’s lord. 

Laying on the ground of his office, passed out at midday and surrounded by half-empty glasses of all kinds of whiskey, the view and the odor of the head of the Peaky Blinders didn’t really fill Anna’s heart with confidence in the man.

The 21st century boots she should not have brought to 1927 echoed in the room, but what really seemed to start to breathe life into the man lying before her was the immediate assault of light hitting his face when Anna opened the window.

“Hm…” Tommy Shelby mumbled, but made no other move to rise.

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” Anna said and proceeded to dump the contents of one of the whiskey boodles on the man’s chest. Not his face. She was feeling gracious that fine Sunday morning.

The brown liquid had it’s effect and in a fast, albeit unsteady move, Tommy Shelby was up and pointing a gun at her face.

“Who the fuck are you?” to his credit, his words didn’t slur, but his eyes still had the glazed look of desperation bathed in alcohol.

“Anna Strauss” She said with a smirk, her hands slowly raising in surrender. “It is nice to meet you too Mr. Shelby.”

A entire minute went by in silence while the steely blue gaze she had only read about in the Academy’s reports took in every inch of her figure. She was really glad it was cold enough that she could wear kevlar under her thick blouse without notice, because the gun did not move from it’s position in his hands.

“Do you have a death wish Ms. Strauss?” Tommy said in a tone which surprised her in its quietness. 

Anna pointedly looked around the mess of the room and the mess of a man and chuckled: “I believe that would be you Mr. Shelby… I could even find you some easier ways to dispose of yourself, if my mission here wasn’t to offer you my assistance.” 

“Your assistance.” It wasn’t a question. It sounded like the confirmation of a fact. He took a step forward and pressed the barrel of the gun to her forehead. “And what kind of assistance do you intend to offer, Ms. Strauss?”, the sound of the safety being taken off echoed through Anna’s adrenaline filled brain, but she was ready for this.

“I intend to stop your son from fighting in the same kind of war his father had to, Mr. Shelby.” Her eyes stopped dead on his, and another minute of tense consideration went between them. His eyes straighten ever so slightly.

“Is that a threat?”

“I really wish it was.” She really needed this to work.

In a second that took forever, the safety was back on his gun, and it was now pointed to the sofa behind her. 

“Sit!” he said, and when she did, he put the gun back in its holster, lit a cigarette and took the place in front of her. “Now, talk.”

“Almost 10 years ago, in 1919, a man called Adolf Hitler started to get very important in a German politic group who will be known as the Nazi Party. In 1939, that man will start the second great world war by invading Poland.” She started to recite the speech that every Time Keeper before her also knew by heart. “I represent a group of people who’s intent is to stop that from ever happening, and you are in a very good position to help us achieve that.” She paused, to let him digest that first. The Academy stood firm on the belief that honesty was the best policy when recruiting help from natives of the past. It still felt wrong.

“A group of people who know this how exactly?” His voice was neutral, but the intelligence in his eyes dared her to say what they were both thinking.

“Time travel”

“Time travel?” he sounded almost casual in his mocking tone.

“Yes.” Anna answered. Her brain working on overdrive to react to moves he still hadn’t made.

“Shouldn’t you be contacting H.G. Wells for that kind of endeavor Ms. Strauss?” The memory of a smile flew by his expression.

She didn’t smile back.

“I understand you are a betting man Mr. Shelby?” Anna said, opening her purse and pulling a roll of money out.

“You could say that.”

She threw the 8 thousand pounds on the coffee table between them. “In a week, you will hear of the victory of the Newcastle United, even as George Camsell earns the record for 59 goals in a Football League. Bet on them, and when you win, meet me at The Garrison for a chat.” Anna rose from her seat ans started to walk out.

“Anyone can be right once about a football match Ms. Strauss. That means nothing.” He said, still looking at where she was seated a moment ago. Anna paused in her path towards the door, turning around to face him.

“A year after the war begins, in 1940, Hitler and the King will get into a dick measuring contest for 57 days. During those days London will be bombed systematically nonstop. The British government will be aware of every attack, before it happens, but will not stop many of them because it will be strategically advantageous to them if Germany doesn’t know that they have cracked their code. Around 43 thousand civilians will be killed during that time, and the war is going to continue for 5 more fucking years after that.” The tears were dry in her eyes, but made her voice sound wet. She paused waiting for his gaze to rest on her face again and see the horror of what she was saying before she could continue.

“I understand you don’t care about your life anymore, Tommy; But how many of Charlie’s years are you willing to bet in the hope that I am wrong?”

He didn’t answer, and she left the manor almost as silent as she had found it.


	2. The Immutability of Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I talk to my dead wife sometimes. In my dreams.” He said. None of her comebacks quite fit with that sentence so Anna refrained from responding with a unintelligible sound and stayed silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should probably give more than a day before posting this.... I don't care.

The sounds of men, drunk on whiskey and joy over a victorious soccer match, changed very little over the centuries.

The Garrison, despite its new and fancier stylistic choices, was still at heart, a blue color establishment, as evidenced by the loud boasting of uneducated, but passionate voices. If she closed her eyes and just took in the ambiance, Anna could easily pretend to be in a British tavern of the 14th century or a American sports bar in the 21st. 

There really was something reassuring about the way people never changed. Except, of course, for the fact that change was exactly her trade of choice, and being a person herself, a daunting task even in the smallest of senses. Never mind the course of an entire World War.

Another thing that hadn’t changed since the dawn of the human race, was people’s instinctive reaction to powerful men (and Miranda Priestley). Her back was turned to the entrance, but she knew Tommy Shelby had walked in only by the way the bartender abandoned a well dressed costumer, mid-pour, retrieved the very expensive whiskey and the glass cups from the top shelf rushed to the small private area adjacent to the counter. Anna could only catch a brief glance of a very particular haircut, before the door to the private area was closed, and the room deflated to an almost normal level of revel. 

It was reassuring how easy it was to differentiate the Peaky Blinders from ordinary working men. They dressed and talked the same; most of them even had guns strapped to their visible holsters; But the line between them was made clear when Tommy Shelby walked in and caused half of the men to almost salute and the other half to throw mildly aprehensive, looks his way.

That was good. No gangster was ever good in the biblical sense of the word. She didn’t expect, and in this particular case, didn’t want them to be. It was, however, important to make sure this gangster was, at the very least, stable and moral. The head of the Peaky Blinders inspired petrified fear or burning hate in everyone, except his own people. She could work with that.

“Excuse me miss, but mister Shelby asked if you would like to join him for a drink.” The bartender said, pointing to the sliding doors. 

“How nice of him to ask.” Anna said, smirking on the inside. Eyes followed her around the room in variant degrees of curiosity.

She expected the room to have more luxurious furniture than the outside, but the chairs and table seemed to be of the same, if a little cleaner. As the bartender closed the door behind her, Tommy leaned back on his chair, blowing a large cloud of cancerous smoak up into the air. Then righted himself on his seat and pointed to another one with his cigarette.

She sat down without a word and waited for him to say something. Her mind already racing for other arguments to convince him, not only of what and who she was, but also of the urgency of her mission. In her experience it took about 3 encounters of very careful explaining before a mark could be turned into an ally; But her experience had, to that day, only been with homely housewives and young soldiers. So it had no impact whatsoever over the speed of her heartbeat.

“I talk to my dead wife sometimes. In my dreams.” He said. None of her comebacks quite fit with that sentence so Anna refrained from responding with a unintelligible sound and stayed silent.

“My aunt Polly sees the future in peoples tea leaves and my father used to tell people’s fortune at carnivals.” He let the silence stretch a bit longer before asking. “Do you know what that means Ms. Strauss?”

“No” She answered in a flat voice.

“It means” He leaned his elbows on the table and locked clear eyes on her.”That I know bullshit when I hear it”

“Mr. Shelby I-”His raised right hand stopped her mid sentence.

He pulled another drag of his cigarrette, held it in for a second and blew it out again before continuing:

“My father used to tell farmers that they were about to encounter shifting luck in their future, and then send me and my brothers at night to steal their horses. My aunt has great intuition that she mistakes for second sight in order to feel close to our heritage and I know very well that my dreams have a lot more to do with the opium I take before bed than with the willingness of my wife’s ghost to visit and give me sage advice.”

“I know what bullshit sounds and tastes and smells like Ms, Strauss. Which is why I’m so intrigued with your particular brand of it.” With a dull thunk he dropped a large roll of money on the table and leaned back on his chair. “Because even being bullshit, it is the profitable kind and that is another thing I am very well acquainted with.” 

“So you don’t believe that I’m telling the truth?”

“No, I don’t. But I did make 8000 pounds on your very unlikely advice. And that makes me wonder how exactly you came about that kind of information, seeing as rigging football matches is not as easy as doping up a horse.” He took a sip of whiskey and poured her a hefty dose. “I would pay a lot for that kind of secret”

“I’m not bullshitting you Mr. Shelby.” She infused some sadness in her mostly professional voice and looked down at the money before brushing back her auburn curls and looking at him once more. 

“Would you like some more proof?”

Thommy Shelby looked back at her with a poker face that would make her Social Management teacher jealous. His shoulders squared with hers reminded her even more of a poker game and she hoped he could catch truth on her expression.

“No”

“Mr. Shelby I assure you-”

“I just got out of a political mess that almost got my entire family hanged Ms. Strauss. If you want to talk business, we can do that, but I will not discuss the impending doom of the world and what I can do about it!” His voice sounded like steel but it felt hollow and frail to her. Like cracked ice.

Anna was ready for that situation and that did not stop her at all from being disappointed with the turn of events. He needed to believe in her soon because helping Tommy Shelby to increase his fortune would not get Adolf Hitler killed.

“Well then,” she sighed and sipped the golden liquid in her cup. “Let’s make a deal Mr. Shelby.” She took a small sheet of paper from her pocket and placed it between them.

“Those are 3 more sports matches that are about to happen in the next 3 weeks.”

“Two of these are American matches” he interrupted, looking down at the paper.

“Yes, and I’m sure your sister can place the bets for you in New York." She waved her hand. "Now, here is my deal: After you win each of those bets, you will call me -the number to my hotel is there at the bottom- and you will give me one hour of your time, so that I can convince you of my endeavor.” Her voice was infused with a small amount of well practiced exasperation.

“Will I?” he said still looking down at the paper. Face blank.

“Yes you will” She got up from the table and paused with her back turned to him, before opening the door. “Also, call Charlie’s doctor, and have him put epilepsy into your son’s records. The British government won’t be able to legally put him in the front lines that way.”

Anna then opened the door and left.


	3. Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “When are you from, Ms. Strauss?” he asked, not looking in the direction of her dark eyes.

Tommy Shelby could not be a father again.

And yet, Lizzie was already showing.

Polly wanted him to go see her. Try to fix his love of booze and opium with a good look at the belly bump that would soon be a human being. His daughter, if Polly’s “second sight” was to be believed.

The room around him was still in a form of disarray similar as to the one two weeks ago. The day that Ms. Anna Strauss had waltzed into his misery, uninvited. Similar, only because he had fucking servants now and they took care of tidying up his mess for him everyday, no matter how rude he was to Francis or Charlie.

Damn it, he could NOT be a father again!

Tommy was stuck in the never ending loop of talking to himself about himself and he was fucking tired of his damned voice. That’s why he was known for his silences really. He knew the power it could have, because if he could only get his own accusing thoughts to shut up, maybe he could also stop himself from looking weak, drunk and lost in front of anyone who cared to look.

He sat up on his couch, his right hand, still red from the deep cut he had inflicted on himself, stinging in harmony with the monumental hangover he needed to start nursing immediately. He reached for the bell that would summon Francis like cattle, and hated it, but he did not trust his own voice to refrain from producing a wail if he used it. Before she came though, he lit up a cigarette and took another dose of whiskey.

All he needed was a little bit more of the poison who had gotten him here. That would keep him going.

Francis was, not surprisingly, was worried about him. But she was also easily distracted by him when told to call the family doctor to stitch his hand up. Which she did, and 2 hours later he was leaving his home with a bandaged hand and a medical sick note for Charlie’s alleged epilepsy.

That was a good problem to start working on. The crazy woman who said she was from the future had no influence in his Peaky Blinders business; and he needed to warm up to this never ending work of his, before he outlined the plan to the family’s next step. Before he could go and see Lizzie.

“How may I help you Sir?” The man at the desk of the opulent hotel asked.

“I would like to speak with Ms. Anna Strauss please.” He said, half expecting her to not be there at all. But then again, if her idea of a con was to give him money and then leave, he should probably assume that the woman was entirely made up of his opium fueled imagination.

“Of course,Mr. Shelby. Just a moment” The short man checked the books and then directed him to sit and wait in one of the lobby’s comfortable sofa.

Five minutes later and she appeared, the red blouse the only vibrant color amid black trousers, coat and hair. Wavy hair that she wore long, like Polly used to, when he was a boy.

“The last game on the list was won two nights ago Mr. Shelby. I was about to give up on you.” Her american accented voice reached him before her hand did, waiting for him to shake it.

He waited a beat to do it. But hugged her hand with his, without a word.

“Shall we go then?” She said, still standing before him.

“Where?” he made no move to get up.

Ms. Strauss leaned forward a little and whispered to him:  
“Somewhere where I can prove to you where I came from, without having to also hear about how the duchess loves her new son-in-law.” With her eyes she indicated a very well dressed, loud, woman to their right, and then took a step back waiting for him to rise.

He did and, without offering her his arm, strode towards his car.

She got into his Bentley and offered no commentary on the direction that they were taking. Tommy didn’t divulge their destination either, and only stopped looking at the road when they were at the docs. Factory smoke filled the air, mud coated the floor, and it would probably cling to her hair and ruin her shoes but she stepped out of the car to follow him with nothing more than a reset of her shoulders and full red lips compressed into a thin line.

He led her to the stables, told Curly to leave and took his place brushing down his horse.

“How much money did you make Mr. Shelby?” She leaned her forearms against the stall’s open door. Nothing, however, disturbed the silence but the sound of his brush going up and down the horse’s side for a minute or so.

“When are you from, Ms. Strauss?” he asked, not looking in the direction of her dark eyes.

“The 21st century.” Her voice was firm, calm and directed straight at him. Well, if she was looking he might as well take this opportunity to remove his coat, jacket and gloves. That seemed to distract people (women) sometimes. It didn’t have a visible effect though.

“And what are you doing here?”

“I’m here to ask your help in stopping world war 2. You do remember me telling you this, right Mr. Shelby? Because if you are too drunk to function already I must go and try to enlist Alfie Solomons’ help. I hear he is a very pleasant sort of fellow.”

Tommy froze.

“They do say he has beaten you more than a few times in the business, so maybe I came to the wrong place anyway.” The wood cracked under the pressure of her weight being pushed off the door as she took one step back.

“Already?” He turned and faced her. His voice, as monotone as ever, but he couldn’t stop his eyes from going a little wide.

“What?” she shook her head a tiny little bit and refocused on his eyes.

“ _Already too drunk to function_. What do you mean by that?”

“I…” a slight blush,the same shade as her lips, briefly crossed her cheeks. “I meant, do you not remember how we met Mr. Shelby?” she continued with remarkable conviction. But he had seen her slip.

“It is never a good idea to lie to me Ms. Strauss” He dropped the brush, trading it for a cigarette, which he slowly put between his lips and lit it.

“I shouldn’t lie to you Mr. Shelby? And how am I supposed to do that if you won’t accept the truth when it is given to you?” with hands thrown into the air, her voice rose a little, but not enough to startle the horse.

“You see Ms. Strauss…” Tommy stepped out of the stall, and closed it behind him. “The way that you said the word ‘ _already_ ' right then, that makes me think that you know exactly where my demons lie.” He took a drag of the cigarette. “And that means that someone must’ve told you something about them.” Was it Michael? That boy needed to be put in his place, and Polly wouldn’t dissuade him of a good beating this time.

“You mean apart from the state I found you in our first encounter?” she snorted. Took a step back.

“On a Sunday. One time. That means nothing.”

“I got no inside information Mr. Shelby.” She took another step back, and her knees hit a three-legged stool that clattered to the floor.

“Maybe someone decided to try the honey trap on me again eh? Only they picked the crazy whore to do it!” Dark fire flashed in her eyes at that, and she was in his face a second later.

“You wanna know why I said _‘already’_ Tommy Shelby? I will fucking SHOW you why!” A piece of paper was then thumped against his chest. She took a step back, and he looked down at the paper cut out.

“ _That_ is an obituary for one Thommy Michael Shelby, January 1st 1954.” And it was. A 2 line little thing with no picture on it. “You die of an opium overdose that will be the apex of the last 20 years of your life. Those will consist of a son who died in the war, a daughter who hates you and a broken criminal empire who no one in my time even remembers anymore. Even if they still have movies made about Al Capone!” Anna’s voice did disturb the horse this time. Or maybe, it was just its connection to Tommy’s mood that did that.

“But _I remembered!_ I read about you for _hours_ and I thought, hey, a man who can build such an impressive business out of virtually nothing, and blackmail the _king himself_. That man has _got_ to be able to help me change the one event in Time that seems to be set in stone, right?” She turned her back on him, paced a few times, stopped and finished, looking down at her muck stained shoes. “And now I’m going to be stuck here for the next 15 years, because Tommy fucking Shelby is not man enough to admit that he has a problem”

It was crazy. Of course it was. He was Tommy Shelby, OBE, head of the Peaky fucking Blinders.

The obituary could have been faked for effect and she could be just a good actress or a crazy woman with a very impressive imagination. The football match could have been rigged, and a thousand other reasons tried to convince him this was a lie. Of all people, Tommy Shelby knew the importance of a prop in order to pull a successful bluff.

Except… If he was being honest with himself. Something about the idea of him dying alone and destitute of his own power, surrounded by too much booze and dope rang awfully true in his ears.

That was why he couldn’t be a father wasn’t it?

How hard was it to believe that his daughter would hate him, when he was already half decided on marrying her mother, knowing he would never love her? How could Polly not leave him, when he thought about fucking destroying Michael if he tried to take Tommy’s crown.

His family was why he kept going.

He would destroy it anyway.

Fuck.

He breathed in the last of his cigarette and threw the stub on the floor. Rearranged his cap in place, gathered his coat, jacket and gloves. And with the damning paper in his pocket, Tommy moved to leave the stable.

“Let’s go!”

“Where?”

“To my office Anna.” He halted at the door and waited to hear her steps following him but was met with only the coveted silence. He turned around and met her stunned face then. “That’s where I do business. I’m gonna need some more information, eh?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to LadyShaggingGodiva for the great idea! I loved dwelling on Tommy's future.
> 
> Hope you all liked it! I am aware that I am spoiling you all by posting this many times in a week. I am also aware that that might come back to bite me in the ass, so, let us all keep praying for inspiration to keep bothering my sleep, shall we?  
> lol
> 
> ps: It is probably 3am. Go to sleep hahaha


	4. Need to Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Is it not customary to negotiate the details of a deal, Mr. Shelby?” Her voice had some menace in it, but they both knew how relieved she was by his compliance so the poison didn’t take.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the wait ya'll, but the holidays demand me to pay attention to my family lol  
> and also, I have been doing a lot of research about World War II (apparently that is something one has to do when they are trying to write historical fiction lol) to get my time line right.  
> You didn't see a lot of that in this chapter, but you will.
> 
> thank you to Stephanie, my beautiful beta-reader. And to Gigi and Juh my beautiful proofreaders!
> 
> Picture of the Birmingham Daily Post: https://ibb.co/vBy48Hr
> 
> Hope you enjoy this!
> 
> PS:from now on, spoilers for a few plot points of season 5

“Whose fucking idea was it that I go on holiday, eh?” Tommy strutted into the Shelby betting shop and it was the first time Anna heard something resembling lightness in his voice. 

A tall man with a mustache and the signature Blinders haircut said something about golf and how it was boring and easy while clapping Tommy’s shoulder on the way to his office. He almost closed the door on her face.

“And who are you, love?” He said when Anna stopped the door with her hand.

“This is Ms. Anna Strauss, Arthur.” Tommy cut in almost before Arthur finished his sentence. “She has a business proposition for me.” 

“Oh, well, I’m sorry Ms. Strauss.” Arthur said after a pause. He moved out of her way with no further issues and extended his right hand to shake hers. “It is nice to meet you!”

“A pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. Shelby.” She shook his hand back and moved into the spartan room.

The wordless kind of encrypted communication siblings usually have passed between the Shelby brothers and a second later Arthur left with a mere “welcome back” thrown over his shoulder before he closed the door. 

“Drink Ms. Strauss?” Tommy said motioning her to the empty chair, while sitting down himself and pulling out a bottle of whiskey from the bottom drawer of his sturdy desk.

“No, thank you, Mr. Shelby.” Anna sat down.

“Tommy.”

“I’m sorry?”

“If we are to plan an assassination in the near future, Anna, formalities can be forgotten, don’t you think?” He took a sip of his whiskey.

“Yes, you’re quite right… Tommy. The thing is… we can’t have Hitler killed yet.” 

“Why?” His posture didn’t change, but his eyebrows went up a fraction.

“You see, Hitler is an awful man with awful ideas and plans. But right now, the German people don’t know that. They either chose not to see it, or are fooled by his nationalistic rhetoric to think that he is right. If he dies now, before people can’t see where his ideas are taking the country and the world to, somebody else will just take his place.”

“Sure, maybe, if somebody else takes his place a war doesn’t happen, or if it does, isn’t as horrific, but we can’t know for sure. The man is a monster, but he is not the only one and his motivations are certainly not unique to him.What we need to do is undermine his authority, his message, his propaganda and then end him when everyone else will kinda be wishing for his death anyway.” She stopped talking then, watching the still, and yet never calm, man before her. 

He said nothing. He either guessed what she would be saying next, or was rethinking his decision to help her. Anna gave him no more room to decide by saying,

“I came to you because I know you are very, very close to putting yourself in the House of Lords as the head of the Worker’s Party, Mr. Thomas Shelby. I also suspect you will be doing that, not because you want more power, but because you want to win the game people have made you a pawn of. My only suggestion is that you do that on a slightly larger scale than you once predicted.” Her chin had unconsciously gone up while her voice acquired an almost preaching quality. She probably would be embarrassed by that later, but right now, Anna allowed her passionate desperation to flow free into her features in hopes of maybe warming him.

If it did, she had no way of knowing by his expression. All she knew was that he was considering her words carefully, while taking another deliberate sip of his amber drink. Had she said too much? The Academy was adamant about the “Need to Know” rule, and Anna’s necessity for honest communication had always clashed with that ideal. That was, after all, the reason why she had come alone, to a time period very different to the one her assignment had prescribed. 

“We should talk about your role in my company from now on, Ms. Strauss.” Tommy said. For a second, his words made no sense to her, so she didn’t answer in time to stop his next sentence. “If you are to be my political adviser, I should think we will need an excuse for our frequent meetings, eh? Somehow I think such a distinguished lady like yourself will take offense at being undercover as my whore.” Humor shaded by some memory crossed his face for a second. “I am in need of a new secretary.”

“Is it not customary to _negotiate_ the details of a deal, Mr. Shelby?” Her voice had some menace in it, but they both knew how relieved she was by his compliance so the poison didn’t take.

“This is not a deal, Anna. This is a gamble. And the best way to profit off a gamble is to go all in.” He stood and offered her his hand to shake. Anna stood herself and took his hand in hers.

“Thank you Mr. Shelby.”

“Come to my office when I get elected. And when you do, Anna, call me Tommy.”

***

Almost a month later, Anna was leaving her newly rented apartment in the chilly morning when a rolled up copy of the Birmingham Daily Post hit her chest, not without some force. Automatically, she grabbed it from the well manicured hand that held it. The slight heartburn she had been experiencing in the last few weeks finally left her body accompanied by a long sigh.

**Picture of the Birmingham Daily Post** : <https://ibb.co/vBy48Hr>

“Damn me, Arthur can be right sometimes.” Polly Gray said. Anna raised her eyes towards the Shelby matriarch and couldn’t help but feeling a little starstruck. “Tommy is following a woman again, God help us all.”

“Would you like to come in Ms. Gray?” Anna said, taking a step back into her small abode. With a delicate eyebrow raised, Polly followed her in, and closed the door.

Anna dropped the paper on the table and occupied herself with the soothing activity of warming water for tea. ‘One can always trust British people to wait for a good brew’, her Foreign Culture 101 teacher used to say. How much had Tommy told Polly? Or Arthur for that matter. She was under the impression that Tommy Shelby wasn’t the most chatty of men, couldn’t he keep a damn secret? On the other hand, if he had told his family about their endeavors, maybe that meant that he was committed to it. It would be a relief to know that for sure.

Polly Gray had the eyes of a hawk and the poise of a queen. She took her first sip of Earl Grey and, instead of asking more questions, just looked at Anna. It felt like an oral exam that she was not ready for. Looking for something to excuse her from that piercing gaze, Anna got up and reached for the cookie jar on the top shelf and laid it in front of them. The older woman picked up a cookie, took a bite, and when she spoke, Anna’s brain took a second to puzzle out the words.

“You are not a lovesick girl.” It was not a question. More like a disappointed statement.

“Hum… no.” Anna downed all of her scalding hot tea after answering.

“You are not an ambitious whore either.” Her head tipped slightly to the right and snatched Anna’s teacup from her stunned hands. She was never going to get used to the casual way people asked that in this decade.

“No. In fact, as of today, I imagine I’m nothing more than your nephew’s secretary.” She tried to smile.

“Don’t lie to me girl. Tommy has not hired a secretary without hidden intentions ever before. Especially not one with enough money to rent a place like this.” Polly said with her eyes cast down; still studying Anna’s tea leaves. What could she see there?

The one bedroom apartment in Small Heath was hardly what Anna would call luxurious, but it did have hot water and furniture that was not half-eaten by rats. It wasn’t rented in her name though, she had taken precautions. The only other person aware of where she lived was Tommy himself, via a hand delivered note. Did the man have any secrets at all?

“Look, Ms. Gray. I don’t intend on doing nothing more than my job-”

“Shut up!” Polly made the table tremble with the force of Anna’s teacup hitting it. “I’ll tell you what I know. I know that Tommy’s housemaids have been gossiping about a mysterious woman in trousers going in and out of his house while he was in one of his moods. I know, that shortly after he came out of holiday, he got himself elected MP of the fucking Worker’s Party and I know that his son now has a registered medical condition, when I have never seen a more healthy child in my life…” She trailed off, intently evaluating Anna’s stunned look.

“I have nothing…” Anna tried, but her wonder at his preparation cut her off before Polly could.

“Tommy has also bought property in Charlie’s name, in America, and he wrote a will… giving Grace’s son to Lizzie fucking Stark if he comes to pass. And what I know, Ms. Anna Strauss, is that the last time he made so many war preparations I ended up with a rope around my neck.” Her voice trembled at the end of that sentence, and the information finally clicked inside Anna’s mind. Of course Polly Gray would fucking notice if her beloved nephew started to make preparations. Of course she would wonder.

“So what I am asking you to tell me is: exactly how much is it going to cost me to get you, and whatever war you bring, out of his way?” 

Anna took a deep breath against the overbearing pressure of her heart filling up with guilt. She could lie. She _should_ lie. Time only could tell how big of a Wave this particular Ripple would end up becoming. But what was the point? Polly would know if she lied and then she would’ve bought herself a very capable enemy. She had always preferred to deal with the devil she knew anyway.

Anna leaned forward on the table and allowed the fear in her eyes to find its twin in Polly’s.

“There is no escape from this war, Polly. I’m sorry.”

Silence enveloped them along with the smell of tea for a few moments. Disbelieving realization and horror settled in Polly’s expression without further explanation, and yet, somehow Anna thought she understood. She made no further inquiries anyway. Polly merely gathered her coat and bag and moved towards the door, shoulders squared in a way that made her look taller.

“I’ll see you tomorrow to go over his agenda.” Polly threw over her shoulder and closed the door.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picture of the Birmingham Daily Post: https://ibb.co/vBy48Hr
> 
> Next chapter, we get Tommy's POV again.  
> Can't wait to write it!


	5. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy’s heartbeat sped up, but his practiced indifferent expression stayed in place. ‘This is all extra,’ he repeated in his mind. ‘I was supposed to be dead already’.

**Tommy's POV**

3 Months Later

“This is not working,” Tommy said, before going into his town office and leaving the door open for her.

He heard her soft, annoyed sigh while she got up from her desk and came in behind him. He stayed standing with his back turned to her, staring at books he would never read. The door made an almost inaudible clicking sound as it closed and the chair across his desk creaked under his secretary’s weight. 

“What seems to be the problem then, Sir?” Anna asked, in the professional tone that sounded a little amused to Tommy’s ears.

He took a few breaths that were meant to be deep, but never quite touched the bottom of his lungs. How could he explain the unadulterated hatred most of the MP’s awakened in him? How they made the sound of shovels ring in his ears and the smell of mud penetrate his mind. How the way they casually discussed new laws, without ever considering their effect on the little people, brought back the hopeless claustrophobia of waiting for the cavalry while buried alive.

“They don’t listen to me.” He said. Only turning towards her when he was absolutely sure his expression held nothing beyond cold hate. “I’m not like them.”

“And by that you mean, of course, that while you have a chip on your shoulder, they were born with a silver spoon shoved up their asses. Right?” Anna said with a small grin.

“A chip on my shoulder?” He leaned over the black leather chair and stared at her. 

“Look Tommy, I can appease your ego, or I can tell you the truth. What would you prefer?” Anna’s voice got sweeter, and she leaned back in her chair.

“The truth.”

“They don’t vote with you because they don’t like you, and really, I can’t see why they would. You treat people like they’re your whores and then expect them to like it. That’s just not how it works.” 

“It has worked for me.” He said, gesturing slightly to the expensive room around them.

“Sure it did. Because the people you need to trust you are your family, over which you have innate power, so of course they do. They don’t really have a choice do they?” Anna jumped up and started to prepare drinks for them while continuing her speech. Gesturing with the glasses while making her point. “From everybody else… Well, they are so poor that whatever amount of money or power you give them is enough to convince the bastards that Tommy Shelby wants them to have a better life. So they don’t even notice how little they actually matter. And I don’t really blame you for thinking this way. You consider yourself a whore, so why the hell would you think differently of anybody else?” She walked back in his direction and offered him his glass of Irish whiskey. “White, rich men were raised to believe that they are above that. Whether or not you agree, Tommy. They will act accordingly.” 

Tommy reached for the cup and took his measured sip while watching her glide back to her seat. He missed the simplicity of the business transactions he had enjoyed so far. He could act his part just as well as any other Gypsy worth his tricks, but he was so fucking tired of it. 

“God, you look like I just told you to bring me the moon!" She laughed. "Make some friends, invite a few guys to smoke nasty cigars in a dark room while you talk trash about your wives, throw a party or something! It’s not rocket science Tommy!” She threw her hands in the air, frustrated, and then brought them back by sliding her fingers through her black, recently cut, hair. 

“A party?” How was that going to help? Tommy snorted to himself.

“Yes, a fucking party! You know, a social gathering where people drink and laugh and have fun… One where nobody gets shot, if at all possible, too.” She grinned, but her eyes were serious. “Polly says the Peaky Blinders have trouble with that part.” 

He should tell Polly to stop telling war stories over their weekly lunch. “And that is not treating them like whores… how?” It was just how the world worked. Give and take, supply and demand. He drank a little more.

“This is an investment, not a transaction, Tommy. More like wooing a woman if you will. If, come next month, after all of our efforts, they still choose not to vote with you in the new syndicate law, there will be no retribution. You will keep treating them in the exact same way. Most of them will do the same and when their companies are crashing because of the strikes, they will come to you for advice. They will do it the next time as well and before you know it, they trust you.”

“And we all hug and watch the fucking sunset, eh?” He snorted. Her olive tinted face turned to stone before his eyes. Yanked back to reality she squared her shoulders with his, a slim blue vein slightly visible in her forehead.

Tommy was never rude simply for the sheer entertainment value of it. It was just that politeness was a direct opposite to objectivity. Rudeness on the other hand, was sure to always draw out the most sincere reactions, and he had no patience for social interpretations of others intentions. Particularly not with his own people.

Anna rose from the chair. Her movements were just as gracious as before, but lacking the lightness he had started to associate with her in their time working together. She went around the mahogany desk, leaned her ass against the edge of it and put her hands on his shoulders. The scent of cherry surrounding him most certainly came from her perfume, but it matched the shade of her lips so well that he imagined it to be her breath. She had faint smile lines around her mouth, but her lips were a thin line as she leaned her weight on her left hand, keeping him in place while the right hand unholstered the gun strapped to his ribs on the right side.

Tommy’s heartbeat sped up, but his practiced indifferent expression stayed in place. _‘This is all extra,’_ he repeated in his mind. _‘I was supposed to be dead already’._

The gun, however, was not pressed to his temple, or his heart. Anna jerked back, his chair lurched forward with the absence of pressure. She readied the gun for a shot in the time it took for him to blink. Then his hand was around the gun and her hands around his, thumbs pressing his index finger on the trigger. Anna's eyes once again locked on his, she brought their hands up and placed the gun to her forehead.

“If you can’t trust me, then you can kill me, Tommy.” 

Charged, oppressive silence hung between them. Could she see him debating the options in his head? Was it even possible to hide? He couldn’t verbalize to his own mind what he wanted to do about her. With her. To her. But his index finger fought against hers to escape the trigger. Wasn’t that answer enough?

“No,” Tommy decided.

Anna held his gaze for a second more and then released his hand just as quickly as she had arrested it. She pushed herself from the edge of his desk, turned her back stalked over to the door, opened it and turned to him.

“Then you better start taking me seriously.” The soft click of the closing door slammed through his bones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, too short. But I rewrote this a couple of times and couldn't really find a good excuse to continue in Tommy's head any longer. 
> 
> The good news is that I already know where the next chapter is going, So you guys should have new words to read very soon. 
> 
> Please comment, if you feel so inclined. I love reading ans answering your comments!


End file.
